The House On The Cliff

Now - Harry

Harry stared at the mass of hair spread across his pillow, before glancing at his watch. He really needed to go; he was hours late, should have set off ages ago. But he wasn't sure that he wanted to leave her here either, in his flat without his supervision. He had only just met her.

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. He had graduated from one-night-stands to any-time-of-the-day booty calls. When had he become so pathetic?

It was ten p.m now, and this girl had been there since she had turned up at about six o'clock, already tipsy. He had been just about to leave then, but the sad idiot that he was, he couldn't resist it.

He thought about seeing Hannah again, with that beautiful, thick sheet of blonde waves, those big, blue eyes. He knew that he wasn't her type, but he had thought about her a lot over the last few years. He had missed her the most.

Another glance at his watch told him that he needed to leave now if he wanted to get there by daybreak the next day, and he scribbled a poorly written note that would probably get him burgled, leaving it on the pillow beside her.

His suitcase was heavy as he hauled it down the thousands of stairs. It had seemed like a good idea when he had bought the top floor flat overlooking the Thames a few years ago. He had had visions of parties with the windows thrown open, the bright lights of the city and the distant sound of business men and women unwinding after a long day of hard grind.

He had thrown one party, when he moved in. Somebody had stolen a ridiculously expensive vase that he had bought for no reason other than to say that it was expensive, and the place had taken days to clean.

Shoving the suitcase into the back of his mini, he slammed the boot, the harsh sound echoing through the city. He flinched. His neighbours would be asleep by now, they were all much older, and richer, than him.

When nobody threw open a window and told him to be quiet, he curled his long limbs into the driving seat, took a deep breath, and turned the key in the ignition.

He couldn't believe that they were doing this, that they were going back there.

*

As Harry entered the village, his car winding along the tiny, country lanes, he flicked his full beam on, bathing the uneven roads in cool, blue light. A field mouse paused before skittering across to the fields on the other side.

He drove slowly, familiarising himself with the journey that he hadn't taken for ten years. How had it been ten years already, he wondered.

He rolled down a window, exhaustion falling over him like a cloak, and breathed in the cold night air. The sound of the sea reached him from somewhere distant, and a moment later the cliff began to rise, small for now, but he knew that that would change at any moment.

As he reached the foot of it, he wondered whether they were all in there now, whether they had waited up for him or just settled into their beds for the night.

He glanced at the clock on his dashboard; it was four a.m. If they were awake, he would be lucky. Or perhaps not, he thought, grimly.

Personally, he had been of the idea that they should stay away, get on with their lives. Pretend it had never happened. Surely it will look strange, the fact that they have all turned up here?

But Tina was insistent. She had always been persuasive.

By the time he had reached the top of the cliff, the house hidden by the shadows, Harry couldn't wait to climb into bed and close his eyes.

The door was open, but the house was quiet, the entrance hall cloaked in darkness. A key on a chain had been lain on the table holding the sign-in book, and Harry used it to lock the door.

He didn't want to be there, in that old house with all of those old memories. He felt as if he were there, on that night, and his heart began to quicken.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that were threatening to send him out of the front door and driving back down that cliff, and began to climb the stairs.

He pushed open the door to the same room that he had stayed in all those years ago. He knew that it would be empty, that they would have saved it for him. Everything was the same; even the bed wore the same blue quilt with the mismatched yellow pillowcase.

Suddenly he didn't want to be asleep. Suddenly he wanted to be anywhere but here.

*